It was good to see Katie again. Unbelievably, it’s been over 5 years since we shared a tiny bathroom at Baker College at Rice. As usual, the serenity in the photo belies the hectic shenanigans that occurred hours later (1 canceled flight + 1 missed flight = 2 extra days in Philly!!!). I’m not complaining, though.

Tonight, though, I returned to my first love. Off and on since undergrad, I’ve been working on getting the first movement from Debussy’s Suite Bergamasque into my head (the third movement is the famous Clair de Lune). Now, at last, it seems that my hands are starting to do that “default muscle movement” thing where they move where they need to without me having to do acrobatics in my head while reading the music. It’s a great feeling to have some of it memorized as well. Most of the technical stuff is down, so for the past couple of months, I’ve been layering on the stylistic coloring. Next, I’ll thread together all the sections (currently, I can play about 90% of it smoothly; there are still 7 or 8 measures that are giving me trouble). Once this is done…I’ll move on to the second and last movements. For the first time since quitting lessons 9 years ago, I’ll have a complete suite in my head.

It feels great to be practicing again. Too often these days, my thoughts skitter around and I have a hard time focusing. My moods jump in a manic fashion sometimes and other times, I wonder if I’m settling into a mild depression. But. I sit down, turn on my blue IKEA lamp that sits on top of the piano, and hit the power button. The electricity flows through the connections and within moments, the machine is alive and waiting for me to make it sing. I’ve noticed that my fingers seem drawn to the keys, relieved that they are at home again. When I haven’t practiced in a few days or a week, the joints and memory begin to rust again. I’m trying to be more deliberate and frequent. Happily, it’s becoming easier (I don’t dread the 30 minutes of practice as I did when I was a child. In fact, if left to it, I could practice for hours). It’s exhilarating to feel the gears click into place as a previously incomprehensible tangle of notes begins to make sense and unravel into recognizable patterns and structures. I’m not great, by any stretch of the imagination, but I do have fun and this encourages me to try some more.

I dug out another piece I played during my Years Of Lessons – Debussy’s The Little Shepherd (I played it for a recital back in high school). I remember agonizing over the fast triplets in the right hand and the crazy accidentals in the final third of the piece. At that time, I wasn’t looking for patterns – I was reading the notes verbatim and forcing my mind and hands to comprehend and function accordingly. However, all that practice from years ago apparently built sturdy connections in my brain. When I opened it up and started playing, the muscle memory kicked in and I was playing it with hardly an analytical thought.

I love this piece. It’s so tender, yet sort of sarcastic, and fits into the category of “songs from an idyllic childhood” (the one that I’m forever trying to cement into the blurry reality of today). The simplicity perfectly portrays youth, wonder, solitude, discovery, and finally, a quiet and peaceful resolve. There – I used as many pretty adjectives as possible. With apologies to my friend Carla Flores (thanks for the idea!), I present a recording of my run through The Little Shepherd.

The Little Shepherd

Here’s a rundown of the day’s events (my notes. Alice has others):

Opening Plenary: Irene MacAra-McWilliam – Design Transformations

In talking about innovation and genius, McAra-McWilliam discussed the idea of imagination and the analogy of memory as “looking at a Rose Window”. The Rose Window analogy is a mnemonic device for splitting up and visualizing design thinking. Four main areas are: ways of being; ways of seeing; ways of thinking; and ways of making. The disciplines from these four areas (like contextual inquiry, user testing, and prototyping) overlap and kind of lead towards “transformation”. Interaction designers are like musicians and choreographers as they deal with the dynamic of time. They are artisans working through their material. This is “craft”. Thus, software is the interaction designer’s material. There is extreme high value in the end result of extreme mastery of material.

Another important question that she posed was: Can we see the user as “creator”? The designer should provide the tools with which people can create. There should be a pervasive “DIY” spirit in the design. Some other interesting phrases from this talk: design for diversity; “material of invention (craft of the digital); and connecting communities.

Papers:

• Ambient Social TV: Drawing People into a Shared Experience - this one was pretty cool from a PhizzPop 08 perspective. The set up had an artifact (an orb that would glow a different color depending on how many of your buddies were connected and watching TV at the time) and an interface on the TV (a way to share recommendations about a show and chat (albeit through canned messages)

• Re-Placing Faith: Reconsidering the Secular-Religious Use Divide in the US and Kenya – this was very interesting from a content as well as methods standpoint. The researchers conducted many interviews and CIs among Kenyans and people in Atlanta, USA to determine how their use of technology augmented (or diminished) their faith experiences and how that could be improved. What was interesting was that, in Kenya, the researchers learned that their American perspective was not appropriate in the Kenyan context and that solutions that they presented were not readily accepted. Through “design sketching”, the researchers would sit down with Kenyans they were interviewing and sketch out possible design solutions for devices (like, a cell phone that was leather bound so that it would be analogous to a Bible). In this way, they could engage the users and get immediate feedback to steer further design. It was like affinity diagramming and ultra-rapid prototyping done in the field.

• Interactivity – Dynamic Knobs: Shape Change as a Means of Interaction on a Mobile Phone – I didn’t really understand why overloading one tactile button on a phone with a bunch of functions was a good idea…

• Interactivity – Natural Interaction SensitiveTable – This was about the multi-touch table display. There was a lot at CHI this year about touch displays and interacting directly with the interface. They had a demo, of course, similar to ones that I’ve seen online already. However, they had the table in the convention hall for people to play with.

• Post-WIMP – Inflatable Mouse: Volume-adjustable Mouse with Air-pressure-sensitive Input and Haptic Feedback – Problem: you want to carry your mouse around with your laptop. However, it’s bulky and not very portable. A slim mouse would work, but those are not easy to use. Enter…the Inflatable Mouse! Strange…until you realize the possibility with this device. When deflated, it would slide into a slot your laptop. Inflated (by a wired air pump connected to the computer), it acts like a balloon. The mouse interactions are expanded beyond the click to squeezing the sides of the mouse or applying pressure with the heel of your hand.

• Do I Live in a Flood Basin? Synthesizing Ten Thousand Maps – This talk was amazing to me since one of my last projects at the iSchool was the LiveMap, a Map that would allow the user to layer known maps with other useful maps (like a campus map or bike map or hand drawn “folk” map). I was curious how the presenter would address the problem of organizing the maps in a way that they would be useful and understandable. With his prototype, users can query different maps for a location (example: finding all the maps made about the area around downtown Austin would return street maps, utility maps, historical maps, demographic maps, etc.) and then link them together in meaningful ways. The maps can be layered with varying opacity and made to show progression (through time) and fusion (correlation between an aspect of one map and another). The magic behind all of this is from Microsoft’s MapCruncher (what they were presenting today).

• Video Browsing by Direct Manipulation – this paper was very similar to the next one…

• DRAGON: A Direct Manipulation Interface for Frame-Accurate In-Scene Video Navigation – These were similar and really cool ways to navigate through video by directly moving through the scenes (without using the traditional slider bar. A user could track a movement (like a car changing lanes or a horse jumping over a fence) faster by clicking on the object in question and moving it along a trajectory “in space” rather than moving incrementally through time with the slider. There is a demo here that I believe you can play with (haven’t tried it yet).

The evening ended with a swank reception (lots of finger foods, gelato, and a string quartet that played Vivaldi over and over again) that doubled as a vendor fair. Eye tracking and remote usability testing are big this year. Alice and I were sure to grab lots of glossy full color fliers to pore over later.

I finally crawled out of my jet-lagged haze on Sunday (after having slept almost all of Saturday) and moved from the hostel to my hotel for the conference week. It was then, on the 15 minute walk through town, that I caught my first glimpse of the town. I can’t really say that it knocked my breath out of me, but it was interesting. Beautiful, in it’s charming, meandering way (there is no concept of a ‘grid system’ in this town, as with most European cities). With each step bringing me closer to the epicenter of tourist and commercial activity, however, I became more and more excited. The city began to breathe on its own without the aid of all the guidebooks I’d read. Each laundry line stretched from window to window, each woman opening the (real and functioning) shutters of her flat to let in the morning light, each vendor stall with bright pashmina scarves dangling delicate jellyfish-like tentacles onto curious shoppers…they all added points to the city until it was obvious that Florence had worked its way into my heart and won, hands down. And, if I needed any more convincing, there was the so-large-it-must-be-unreal Duomo and Campanile (bell) tower, crouching quietly to my left as I stepped into the piazza on the last leg of my journey to the hotel.

Dropping off my stuff at my hotel, I dashed to the Piazza del Duomo to climb the famous dome. Unfortunately, it was closed that particular Sunday. No matter – I could pay 6 Euros to climb the Campanile instead. Which I did. And thoroughly enjoyed even though I thought I was going to have a heart attack by the time I reached the stop. It’s a good thing that they have installed incremental observation points along the way or else tourists would just sit down on the steps and end their lives right there in lovely old Florence. From the very top of the Campanile, I was able to take in the most stunning 360 view of Florence. Unfortunately, it was a little cloudy that day, so the distant reaches of Tuscany were just gray fuzzy spots on the horizon. Fortunately, I had the best view of the rooftops of Florence and could really get a sense of how big (or small) the city is. Well worth the 6 Euros. (By the way, I am becoming very good at calculating the exchange rate into US dollars. It’s very easy – everything translates into “expensive”).

I am staying very near to the Uffizi gallery, separated only by the Piazza della Signora and the Palazzo Vecchio. Therefore, the next thing that I had to do was to see the Uffizi gallery. I knew that if I didn’t I’d have several people at home (namely, my art history genius sister) giving me dirty looks. So, I did. I was happy to run into Alice and David at the reserved tickets office and we were all happy to waltz into the museum ahead of the hundreds of other people queuing up outside. Thus began three hours of Italian art. There was art everywhere – the walls, the ceilings, the floors. We saw some favorites – like Botticelli’s La Primavera and The Birth of Venus – as well as lots and lots of works that seemed to look very similar by the end. We even looked at the vast army of sculptures that lined the halls of the museum (not sure many people actually take notice of them). We did notice a pair of statues of men, hanging by their wrists, who appeared to have short horsetail-like things growing out of their backs. Weird.

Next, we ambled out to the banks of the Arno River and walked towards the Ponte Vecchio. On the way to the bridge, there are railings onto which people affix padlocks as a symbol of undying and committed love. I guess when the railings are full the city cuts them off and people just start over. After crossing the Ponte Vecchio (lots of shops), we began to hunt for good gelato. Gelato is EVERYWHERE in Florence and I am sure that I am spoiled, now, thanks to the abundance here. We finally got some near the Palazzo Pitti and ate it as we dodged traffic and made our way to the Chiesa de Santa Maria del Carmine to see the painted ceiling that my sister had recommended. We found the chapel, walked in, and were surrounded by the ethereal sound of the priest echoing mass. Tiptoeing around for a while, I looked up and took in the amazing trompe l’oeil ceiling and marveled at the use of line and perspective. It is only today, after reporting to my sister success of finding the church that she let me know that I was supposed to look at the walls of the Brancacci chapel at the church. Not the ceiling. Oh well.
More walking, more photos, more dodging motorbikes, and then… my first sample of Italian “slow food”. This is in contrast to fast food, of course, but it’s even different from an American concept of “a real meal” (My concept of a real meal, a lot of times, being a bowl of cereal eaten during the first half of an episode of LOST). Meaning: Dinner lasts at least two hours. And that’s just an appetizer, main dish, and dessert. No one is in a hurry and if you are, it’s your problem. Alice, David, and I enjoyed the antics of our waitress and just relaxed, knowing that we had just completed a day well spent.

Dinner: bruchetta, spaghetti olio al alio (I think that’s how it goes. Basically, spaghetti in olive oil with garlic. In this case it had the added bonus of pepper and, what’s this?, pieces of anchovy), cheesecake. Yum!

Work has graciously sent my co-worker, Alice Bradford, and I to Florence, Italy, to attend the CHI2008 conference. (www.chi2008.org).  I left on Thursday and will be conferencing through next week.  I also have a couple days at the end where I’ll be doing a little exploring on my own.

Since Thursday at about noon, I’ve been moving non-stop and making it from Austin to Florence via plane, train, and several automobiles.  When I told my friend Chris about my decision to hop around so that I was paying less for transport, he commented that I would be traveling like a gypsy.  “Haaa…yeah.” I said.  But, he was right.  Word to the wise: spend the extra $300 and get that direct flight!  On my flight from Austin to Atlanta to Dusseldorf, I scored a seat in the exit row (yay! leg room) and chatted with a nice guy who was on his way back to Germany from a business trip in Mobile, Alabama (!).  When I told him that I had to get from the main Dusseldorf airport to the little one in Weeze to catch my Ryanair flight, his eyes kind of bugged out of his head.

“What time is your other flight?  Weeze (say: VEET-zeh) is 60km away!  You should probably rent a car.” 

Hmm, that didn’t sound good.  Well, I arrived in Dusseldorf, made my way through the ghosttown of an airport and talked to 5 different people before getting the correct directions to the train I was supposed to take to the central station.  Weeze is so far out of the way, that you have to take two trains and a bus or taxi to get there.  That’s how Ryanair gets you: they entice you with their crazy low prices (I mean, come on, who is going to pass up a $0.01 fare (before tax)??) and then they’re like, “Oh, just FYI: The airport you will need to go to is an air strip two towns away.  And, it’s not connected by any logical public transport.” 

Oh well, no complaints.  Despite knowing only five words in German (Hello, Thanks, You’re welcome, please), I was able to get to the central station and catch the train to Weeze.  After an hour of that, I followed some similarly confused looking people off the train to find a shuttle.  Well, it turns out that it would be faster to just take the taxi.  So, I hopped in the cab with the nice strangers and we sped off to the airport…which was literally a steel shed with a glassed in lobby.  Srsly, folks, there were only two gates.  We had to walk from the gate to the plane and climb the stairs to get on.  I felt like I was on the set of Casablanca.  Again, no complaints except that the woman who sold me my bus transfer ticket stole two Euros from me.  I couldn’t believe it – right in front of my eyes, she took the coin, dropped it in a bucket behind the counter, and then proceeded to tell me that I hadn’t given her enough money.  I was flabbergasted and tried to assert myself (very poorly, I admit).  All the while, she was like, No, you only gave me this bill.  I kept pointing to where she had JUST DROPPED THE MONEY and finally she said, “don’t get upset.  Just give me the money.” I kind of looked at her in surprise but handed her 10€ anyway.  She then gave me MY SAME 2€ coin back with a smile.  WHAT JUST HAPPENED?!?

Anyway, no worries.  I had plenty of time to wait in the shed for my flight.  The plane was packed full and despite leaving late, we made it to Bergamo (Milan) right on time.  I think the pilots wanted to maintain their record (purportedly, Ryanair is Europe’s on time airline) so our landing was one of the most abrupt I’ve ever experienced.  We kind of skidded to a halt on the tarmac and a girl in the back of the plane screamed.  Poor thing.  She must have been sleeping and thought that we had crashed in the ocean.

Off the plane, and into a bus.  The ride from Bergamo to Milan’s city center was a comfortable hour long trip.  I fell asleep (by now, the exhaustion was catching up with me) and missed most of the scenery.  Was able to get a first class ticket in Milan for the train into Florence.  Two hours later (and one hour later than I had wanted to), I arrived in Florence’s Santa Maria Novella central station.

First impressions of Florence: dirty, pretty, nice weather, dark (well, it was night), tempting food all around, very walkable.

I need sleep…

This time, it’s another part of the world. The break is so abrupt, though, that I feel strangely homesick and I haven’t left yet. The windchimes on my patio sound so sweet – do I really want to go a whole week without hearing their clamor?

And then, I think – “You’re silly. Go to sleep, finish packing, and get on that plane. There’s another dimension to explore and you’re worried about when you’ll hear your windchimes again!!!”

I guess a number of things have happened since I touched down in the great state of Texas after the two weeks in Scandinavia. Most people make one life change at a time – get married, or buy a house, or try a cuisine from a far-off land. I, however, chose to make as many life changes as possible in one go. In the span of 1 month, I quit my stable and long-ish term job at Freescale, I graduated with a Masters degree, I traveled thousands of miles to breathe in the air of a beautiful place, and I started a new job in a very different (but, as always, since I can’t seem to make a clean break of anything, related) direction. And now, I’m tired.

Some people say that in order to find out who you are, you must leave everything familiar. Others say to dig down to your roots, piercing the ancient bark and tearing away until the tender insides reveal themselves to be your own DNA. I desire the former, but am tied to the latter, even though I often feel as a nomad might. Essentially, I am a woman without a culture, without the burden of a tradition. In a way, I am a Woman Without Borders. I love that, even though sometimes I twinge with jealousy when I see others who have a strongly defined Self. Instead, I am here, I am now, and I am on the cusp of some great promise.

But, aye, there’s the rub. You see, I am ungrounded. A”live wire” so to speak. Ideas spark and shoot through my veins, constantly flicking possibilities, like flashcards, behind my eyes. Be this. Do that. Go there. I want to explode in every direction, becoming analogous to numerous situations while still retaining some semblance of uniqueness. Possibility becomes a curse and my brain, the nucleus of some deranged atom, undulates at the center of a speedway of particles racing around the p-orbitals cushioned by my skull. Ideas, ideas, ideas…but what will become of them? I have come to love them, but all the while scorn their usefulness. They need a home – I can no longer take care of them in this state.

Who will watch over my babies, my hopeful fantasies and dreams?

Once I settle, though, and the rocking subsides into a calm, still, vat of cool air, I realize that the “it’s too much” is a creation of an over-active mind. I recall that I am a self-labeled nomad, but then it occurs to me that I do have a culture and an allegiance. My culture is one in which I am in harmony with thousands, nay, millions of people who seek the identity of Christ. Myself, alone…I am nothing. But, since choosing to strike out on that dusty, precarious, and pot-hole riddled road called “Christianity”, it’s evident that I’m not alone. There are other travelers out here, and though we come from many different places, we all seek the same goal. Just hearing the nearby shuffling of similarly weighed-down feet gives me a bit of comfort. Breathing in the collective groans and sighs that morph into rhythmic repetitions of the promises of our Lord gives me strength. And watching as the arms of my Saviour envelop a poor soul as she begins to crumble gives me hope.

What is the end of all of this? I don’t really know. Disparate thoughts of a mind settling down for sleep, I guess. The bottom line is this: I don’t know exactly what’s going to happen, but I’m full of raw hope. I’m not sure where I’ll end up, but I have a feeling the ride is going to be quite interesting. Possibility and potential are two fragrant lilies cupped in my hands, but I’m not sure what to do with them at the moment. I’m straining to hear “the call”, but I’m also cognizant that I might miss it because of all the noise in my life at this time. I no longer have a 5-year plan, but I’m not courageous enough to live completely in the “now”. Hope, faith, love. But the greatest of these is love.

I saw an exhibit in Bergen that had the following on an endless wall of mirrors:

Everything is different, it just looks the same.

Everything is the same, it just looks different.

Somehow, I feel like I’m trapped right in the middle, right in between those two sage lines.

Hush, sleep now.

Despite the…hygenic disturbance, the NSB Oslo-Bergen line provided a cheap (again, traveling on a MiniPris CHEAP ticket) way to see the Norwegian interior. The landscape changed so many times. From Oslo, it flattened out in to lush green farm land. Then, majestic pine and birch forests. Then, as we ascended, rockier brush land. We actually went over a mountain…and it was snowing!!!!! I have photos that I will post here later. On the other side of the mountain, past Myrdal and Flam and on the way to Voss and Bergen, we returned to the green forests, waterfalls, and lovely little towns.

**I’ll have to dig up my notes on the rest of this. I can’t believe it’s been over two months since I went on this adventure. Perhaps I’ll come back to this in the future.**

Anyway, I know that there are many holes in this narrative. I plan to sit down and fill them in (with photos!) this week, God willing. There is much writing to catch up on!

Thanks for staying with me through this adventure. Onward! )